


Cynicus

by iimplicitt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Love, Love/Hate, Magic, Misogyny, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suggestive Themes, Tragic Romance, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes, Violence, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimplicitt/pseuds/iimplicitt
Summary: Tom Riddle is a restless Dark Lord in the making, fresh out of Hogwarts and ambitious to make a name for himself. However, in order to move up the hierarchy in the wizarding world he needs to make connections- leading him to spending more time at Malfoy Manor. Which inevitably causes him to spend time with Liliana Malfoy, the precocious younger sister of Abraxas, learning the ways of high society herself. The relationship between Tom and Liliana changes, however, when she matures and proves her intellect, but the possibility of something lasting seems unlikely since he doesn't believe in the fictitious ideal called love.[victorian au]
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy & Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. epigraph

“Misery had certainly given her energy, a sense of identity, a powerful questing will. It was even impressive. His part however was to be lucid and disappointing and cold. The least tenderness or excitement, the least foothold in his heart, and he and she would both be in danger."

Iris Murdoch, _The Sacred and Profane Love Machine_


	2. Wool’s Orphanage

_London, 1846_

**Anger** was the only thing registering in Tom's mind as Billy continued to refuse him the ball. "But why not?" He'd asked for what felt like the hundredth time. All he wanted to do was play. Billy merely stuck his nose in the air, "because I said no."

The boys startled scream rang through the air as he was suddenly thrown back, his body hitting the wall with a painful thump. Tom blinked, in shock at what had just occurred and undoubtedly confused at the ball that now resided in his hand. Billy gaped up at him in fear, and Tom found himself smirking.

His life at the orphanage after that had permanently changed, whether or not it was for the better was up for debate.

The other children were afraid of him, though none of the adults could pinpoint why. Sure, they were well aware Tom Riddle was a strange boy. He hadn't even cried when he was born. Nonetheless, they raised him the same as any other child that resided under the orphanage's roof.

"He's evil!" Billy, as well as others, would wail, clutching at the long skirts of Mrs Cole. "Nonsense," she'd reply back curtly. Though as time went on even she could sense something began to be off about Tom.

He was never happy.

Mrs Cole worried for him, even though his circumstances weren't that different to anyone else in the orphanage. His mother had died giving birth to him, she was only eighteen and still heartbroken over her long lost lover. Merope, that was her name. The poor dear never even got to hold her own child, and she only had one request; name him after his father.

That was nine years ago, Tom Riddle didn't cry then, and he hadn't since.

Every once in awhile, Tom would also wonder if something was wrong with him, if the other children were right. These thoughts would only occur into the late night, when everyone else was asleep and the wind would rattle the windows, keeping him awake.

Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't feeling things when he was supposed to. For instance, when Catherine - a girl a year younger than him, had lost her beloved cat, Tom felt nothing. When Mrs Evan lost her husband and sobbed long into the night, he felt nothing.

At first Tom didn't think anything of it, but eventually he became aware of the whirlwind of emotions around him from others. Everyone wore their hearts on their sleeves, showing what they truly felt, and he was astonished.

The vulnerability of it was frightening.

However, after the incident with the ball, Tom finally felt something, and he was overwhelmed. He didn't know how he did it, and at first he wondered if he had done it at all. The feeling that burned through his veins afterward proved otherwise. He longed to do it again, but didn't know how and that frustrated Tom to a high decree.

He couldn't very well ask anyone, no one would believe him. That'd only prove him to be mad and the thought of Mrs Cole shipping him off to some asylum was unsettling.

No, there wasn't anything wrong with him. Tom knew that now and the finality of it was euphoric. No, there wasn't anything wrong with him at all, there was definitely something more to him, however.

In that moment, Tom Riddle realized he was special.

___________________________________

In the year that had passed, he'd learned he was so much more than any of the other children. Than anyone he's ever met.

Again and again, usually when he was angry was when it was the strongest, Tom was able to do things that seemed unreal. That seemed godlike.

The other children became frightened of him and Tom basked in the power dynamic it gave him. Admittedly, he was lonely at first. Tom had always been lonely. He was the strange child no one wanted to play with and no couple wanted to adopt. His intellect frightened potential parents looking to for a child to call their own, but someone his age shouldn't be so aware. It didn't sit right in their minds.

Shrugging this loneliness away, Tom began to use it to his advantage. If he wanted something, he could get it. If he wanted someone to do something for him, they would. All in fear of what he would do if they didn't. Though he had to tread more carefully around the adults- Mrs Cole in particular.

He had more subtle ways of getting under their skin. Such as blackmail or ruining their belongings. When Tom realized he could set stuff on fire it gave him a particular thrill. Though nothing could compare to the day he realized just how vast and peculiar his abilities were.

The day he found out he could speak to snakes.

Wool's had taken a trip to a small park on the outskirts of London. Mrs Cole claiming they all needed a break from the city and could do with some fresh air. Tom didn't mind, he actually liked exploring so he broke off into the more wooded area, also glad to be alone.

He had walked by a bush and heard whispering. Thinking it was another one of the children, he pushed the branches back to ask why they were hiding but was only met with a snake.

Knitting his brows together, Tom shook his head, worried for a moment that perhaps he truly was mad. However, the snake lifted its head, its inky black eyes looking directly at him and its tongue flicked out in what should've been a hiss. Instead Tom heard one word, clear as day.

" _Hello_."

___________________________________

"Tom," Mrs Cole said as she knocked lightly on his door, "you have a visitor."

Perking up in interesting, Tom set his book down and turned in his seat at his desk. In the eleven years he'd been there, he'd never had a visitor before.

A man with auburn hair in an odd suit stood in the doorway, Mrs Cole lurking behind him with a cautious expression. "Tom, this is-"

"Albus Dumbledore," he said with a smile, stepping further into the room. Immediately Tom could sense there something different about the man, he could _feel_ it. Almost as if an energy was pulsing through the air.

He smiled.


	3. Ministry of Magic

_1857_

**Polished** , black leather shoes strode along the dark green marble of the Ministry's atrium. The people he walked by all bowed their heads in greeting, showing clear respect for the man despite his young age.

After all, Tom Riddle had earned it.

Only being two years out of Hogwarts, he found himself in one of the highest ranking positions. Though he was only one voice, Tom had a clear thirst to further his position in the years to come. Many were betting on him becoming the Minister, in all due time.

He worked under Actaeus Malfoy, who was the Minister's right hand and Chancellor of magical Great Britain. Tom was in the running of taking Lord Malfoy's position after he was promoted, though it didn't settle right in his stomach.

Tom wanted more, the need to be at the top an insatiable hunger.

When he got to his floor, his feet padded quietly along the deep purple carpet and he heard muttered voices around the corner. Clearly feminine, and he resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

As expected, the moment he became in their sight the two women let out chirpy greetings of hello. Tom feigned delighted surprise, offering the women a charming smile as he came to stand in front of them. They were 'accidentally' blocking the door to his office.

"Good morning, Master Riddle." They each sighed out, their doe like gazes fluttering in admiration. Disgust stirred deep within but his facade remained strong and he bowed his head humbly. "Good morning, Lady Rosier."

He then turned to the raven haired one, "Good morning, Lady Parkinson. How is your husband, well I hope?" She deflated at the mention of her spouse and Tom couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, he's quite well. Thank you for asking." Parkinson muttered, the flush draining from her cheeks slightly.

One would think the women would feel some sense of shame in flirting with a man younger than them, and perhaps they did. Even though Tom was only twenty years of age, the maturity that dripped off him often made people believe him to be older.

He was alluring, and he used it to his advantage.

"I would truly love to have a longer conversation but I'm afraid I have much work to do," he patted his briefcase tentatively and they nodded in understanding. "Of course, I do hope you're able to come by at some point for tea?" Rosier asked, her own pale cheeks colored a light red.

"I would be delighted, though as I'm sure you're aware I'm rather busy as of late."

"Of course."

He bid them goodbye and stepped into his office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click and immediately the women's hushed whispers met his ears. Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, Tom walked further into the room and set his briefcase down on his desk.

The office was rather spacious. He had a large desk, carved from ebony which matched the dark wood floors. On either wall were floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to the brim with all sorts of novels ranging from politics to the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Soft, warm light filtered in through the large window behind his desk that over looked the atrium.

Settling himself down in the plush, emerald chair, Tom dug into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Wetting it on his lips, he then lit it and took a deep drag before un-clasping his briefcase.

Lord Malfoy currently had Tom overseeing foreign affairs concerning the Statue of Secrecy, though that was his job- not Tom's. Nonetheless, it gave him accurate preparation for the position that was soon to come into his grasp.

Besides, if he needed any further proof Lord Malfoy was incompetent, this was the way to go about it. Already he knew more people favorited him over the old Chancellor. People followed Lord Malfoy in fear, whereas people looked up to Tom in admiration. Seeing hope of a new age in the face of the youth.

Now, it's not to be said people didn't 'fear' Tom, he just as well intimidated everyone. Even the current Minister could admit the boy's gaze was unsettling. There was an aura around him, one of power and one not to be meddled with.

Tom tapped his cigarette on the ash tray before placing it back between his lips. Yes, in all due time people would follow him both in admiration _and_ fear.

In all due time.


	4. Liliana

**To** put it simply, Liliana was dreadfully bored of her life. She learned from a young age how limited she was, even as a child she wasn't at liberty to simply run around and have fun. 

No, her father wouldn't allow such behavior.

She was beyond envious of her elder brother, Abraxas. He was eccentric and had a carefree lifestyle, one of nearly no stress besides the weight of being an heir. Even then it wasn't much of a strain.

Nonetheless, growing up she would always assure herself it wouldn't be this strict forever. Once she turned eleven, she'd get her letter to Hogwarts- just as Abraxas did, and she'd have a whole new freedom of learning magic at school.

That dream was torn to shreds, quite literally.

When the owl had arrived, Liliana was jumping off the walls in excitement, her blonde curls flying about as she waved the bit of parchment in the air. Only to have her father snatch it from her fingers.

She nearly cried but her father tutted, smoothing down her hair with a firm hand he probably thought was gentle. "My dear child, I'm sorry but you won't be attending Hogwarts."

"But-"

He fixed her with his cold eyes and she shut her mouth, knowing if she talked back she'd regret it. Liliana watched with teary eyes as he ripped her letter in two before carelessly tossing it in the fire.

Noticing his daughters severe drop in mood, he sighed slightly and kneeled down to her level. "You'll still be learning magic, don't fret. Rest assured, I'll have a tutor on our doorstep the very first of September."

Liliana gave her father a bright smile, little did he know however she wept in her mother's arms later that night.

Blinking away the depressing memory, she returned to her studies with a yawn. Her hand was then smacked and she flinched, looking up at her elderly teacher with knitted brows. "Ow, that hurt."

"Don't yawn, it's unbecoming." The old man said simply, the wrinkles in his skin making his frown appear deeper.

_Your face is unbecoming._

Liliana opened her mouth to argue it was nearly impossible to not yawn, but knew it was pointless and continued reading again.

Honestly, her father thought _this_ was learning magic? She didn't even have a wand. Lord Malfoy didn't see a point in her acquiring one, which was ridiculous in her opinion. She'd ask him constantly, begging for him to give her a viable reason, but he merely brushed her off with a 'that's just the way it has to be.'

She wanted more, that's the simplest way Liliana could explain it. She wanted so much more from life, she knew it had more to offer her than hours spent cramped in a room studying uselessly for hours. She was seventeen, she wanted adventure, hardships, surprises, and she wanted love.

Sadly, the only way she could acquire such fanciful things was vicariously through her books.

They were her prized little secret, and she'd be damned before someone found out. If they were to be taken away from her, she'd just as soon pitch herself off the highest point of the manor she could find.

One would think it's not a big deal, but the thing is, her books were written by Muggles- and they were genuinely her only sense of escape. Merlin, her father would be down right furious if he found out. A shiver ran down her spine at the image of him losing his temper. Lord Malfoy frightened her, she couldn't help it.

Nonetheless, that didn't deter her from getting her few moments of happiness as she read one of her favorite romance novels late one evening. Due to many sleepless nights reading, getting lost in the make-believe worlds, Liliana had developed a rather vivid imagination.

One her parents and tutor didn't approve of in the slightest, though her mother didn't see it as that much of an issue.

Over time, she had also warped into quite the hopeless romantic. Practically falling in love with every man she met, a new one catching her fancy every other week.

Liliana couldn't help herself, she was in love with the idea of being in love. Unaware of the notion that it might just crush her in the end.


	5. Veil

**One** might say dark thoughts led to dark deeds, and Tom didn't necessarily disagree. He just knew how to control himself better. 

He couldn't even begin to count the amount of times he wished to just end it all right there. Simply cut off Lord Malfoy's head and shove a skewer through the skull and brandish it in the atrium. For all to see and admire, to gape and cower at. Sure, he could preform the killing curse, have it over quickly, but why take away all the fun?

After all, if you're going to kill someone you might as well make the most of it.

As the thought rang in his mind, Tom smiled charmingly as two members of the Wizengamot passed by, clearly on their way down to a trial. A group of Auror's had recently captured a group of Grindelwald's followers, and now they were undoubtedly going to try to prove their innocence. The Imperius curse will most likely be their excuse.

He wondered how the councilmen's heads would look on a spike as well when a hand was suddenly on his shoulder.

"Riddle, my boy, have you the papers?" Lord Malfoy asked, his tone light but it was obvious Tom had better have them ready. "Yes sir, I had them delivered to your office this morning."

"Did you?" He said slightly surprised, but quickly regained himself and he nodded curtly. "Good, though I'd appreciate it if you'd informed me as soon as it was done."

Tom ticked his jaw but forced himself to bow his head slightly, "of course sir, my apologies. I'll be sure to inform you next time."

A smile all too smug for his own good spread out across Lord Malfoy's features as he walked off, his platinum blond, thinning hair gleaming in the afternoon glow filtering in from the skylights.

No, not a beheading, Tom thought. Castration seemed more fitting for a man as disappointing as Lord Malfoy. Running a hand through his dark hair, thick with rebellious curls, Tom turned his attention towards the floo network.

___________________________________

Abraxas rubbed at his eyes, trying to rid of the tiredness that hung over him as he entered the dining hall. He hoped his hangover wasn't obvious, but with the look Liliana gave him it was clearly the opposite.

"You're late," his mother said curtly, taking a tentative sip of her wine. He sighed through his nose and made his way over to her, pressing a kiss to her temple before taking a seat, all the while avoiding his fathers gaze.

"And I apologize, though I'm here now."

"Did you have fun, studying, I mean?" Liliana said lightly, feigning innocence at the glare her brother shot at her. "Yes," he eventually said after Rhodope handed him a glass.

"Father I do apologize, but I ran into an acquaintance from school and we got caught up in conversation."

Liliana perked up, she always loved hearing about Abraxas' days at Hogwarts, seeing as she never got to go herself. "Really, who was it may I ask?" Lord Malfoy's voice was full of indifference as he took a bite of his dinner. It was nearly ridiculous how slowly he chewed his food.

"Tom Riddle, I believe he works for you."

Their father nodded his head, a pale eyebrow raising slightly in recognition of the name. "Yes, a rather bright lad if I was to be so bold. You'd be where he was if only you didn't spend your time so idly."

Abraxas flushed and took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat to relieve them of the sudden silence. Liliana couldn't help her curiosity as he turned to her brother, "what's he like?"

"Who, Master Riddle?" Abraxas shrugged partially as he cut into his dinner. "He's very intelligent, graduated top of our class. Though I must admit, he's a bit too much of a realist for my company. He drains the spirit."

"Perhaps a realist is just what you need to tame your behavior," their mother mused. She loved her son dearly and wanted him to enjoy himself, but even she could admit he was getting out of hand.

"He must be rather dull if he can drain the spirit," Liliana said, trying to get Abraxas to tell her more about his character that way she could put a face to this man. She loved doing that, it gave her brain something to do that she actually enjoyed.

As Abraxas went on describing Tom Riddle's character, the utter complexity made Liliana nearly fell in love. For almost ten minutes she sat there, motionless. Her rose tinted lips parted and a brightness settled over her dark blue eyes. Rhodope didn't go ignorant to the sudden shift in her daughters aura.

"Nonetheless," Lord Malfoy cut in, causing Liliana to flinch slightly. "He's an orphan, a man of no name. And a man of no name, is a man of no importance. Hardly even a man."

"Actaeus," his wife said, slightly affronted by his crudeness and he merely waved a hand of dismissal. "It's true, though he is bright, he's wasting his time. Even then, he's lucky to be where he is."

"If he is in such a high position, a family name shouldn't matter, correct? He's proved his worth if he's made it up that far."

Her entire family turned to look at her and a light pink dusted her cheeks. There she was, defending a man she didn't even know.

Liliana would later blame what her father described as an 'outburst' on her inner romantic.


	6. Romeo

**Over** the past few days, Liliana had grown infatuated with the idea of Tom Riddle, not so much the man, considering she's never met him. Oh, but she longed to. Though part of her feared once she did actually come to his acquaintance her made-up version of him would be ruined. 

She'd sit in one of the lounge rooms, her corset feeling too tight as she gazed at one of the marble statues they had. Liliana would warp its features, trying to imagine what Tom looked like based off Abraxas' description.

Which wasn't much, men were terrible at describing things of beauty.

Although she didn't have a wand, there were other means by which her magic would pour out. It had to, or else she might explode with the energy thrumming inside her. Liliana was quite skilled at transfigurations, considering all she had was her hands.

Staring a bit longer at the statue, she ran a hand over the smooth marble and gave the figure loose, flowing curls. She closed her eyes imagining how splendid his hair would look in the golden afternoon light. When Abraxas has told her he had brown hair, she chastised him to elaborate more. No one could simply just have brown hair, he made it seem so mundane. In annoyance, her brother did go into more detail.

Tom's hair was so dark it was nearly black. The only indication of him being a brunette was if the light hit his hair just right, showing a slight caramel brown. Liliana knew he must've had the softest hair to touch.

Her eyes turned to the nose and she gave the state an aristocratic aura about it, full of sharp lines that were delicate all the same. She gave it nice cheek bones and flush lips, it's eyes set true with elegant brows.

Liliana's creation was beautiful, her Tom Riddle was quite literally a work of art.

"Merlin."

Turning with a start, Abraxas was staring at the sculpted marble with amazed eyes. "Did you do that?" he asked, walking up and resting a hand on his sisters back lightly as he peered down.

"Yes, does it capture his likeness well?"

"Ana, it looks just like Master Riddle. Gave me a bit of a fright to be honest," he laughed lightly and she couldn't help but frown. Turning to her artwork, she longed to see what he would look like alive, with a soft rose hovering underneath his cheeks and if his lips were a dusted pink.

One night later that week, she was curled up in a ball with one of her favorite pieces of literature. The only light coming from a candle that hovered just beside her bed. In that moment she wasn't in her room, in a dark manor in Britain, no, in that moment she was a young girl hopelessly in love in Verona.

The love being struck inside Juliet was so intense, so honest, so pure it nearly made her overwhelmed. But the poor girls romance was forbidden by her family, the blood feud causing distress between the two star-crossed lovers, destined to not last. Liliana could feel the yearning through the pages, of the mere brief interactions Romeo and Juliet had yet they seemed to also stretch out in an infinity.

Oh to be in love, especially at first sight. Was there any truer form? Liliana didn't know, her father kept her so sheltered that she couldn't help but fall deeply for anyone.

This time it was different, she hadn't met Tom Riddle and the excitement that swelled inside her chest was immeasurable. He was like her Romeo, she concluded. No more than a character she could fawn over secretly. However wasn't that the best sort of romance? It was the only kind she'd experienced, Liliana found herself more connected to her characters than she did actual people.

The only trouble was, the characters aren't aware of your existence.

Sighing, she rolled onto her back, the silken sheets soft against her skin as she stared at the encrusted ceiling. She wanted to be a character to Tom Riddle, someone he could think about constantly and analyze, something to fantasize over. But he didn't even know her name, Liliana wondered if he knew her at all.

Had her father or her brother mentioned her by chance? Probably not, the two were absolutely pathetic in dealing with matters of the heart.

Sometimes Liliana wasn't even sure _she_ existed.

Shaking her head, she snuffed out the candle and hid her book, now wasn't the time to have an existential crisis.

____________________________________

The meeting they'd been in was dragged on, no one having much to say or didn't care to say anything at all - even though there was the pressing matter of a War Lord.

Tom sat back leisurely, one hand rested under his chin while the other thrummed it's fingers on the arm of the chair. He itched for a cigarette, seeing as many of the other men were smoking their pipes but he'd stupidly left them in his office. He could ask for one, but the notion in itself felt beneath him.

He didn't like asking anyone for anything.

The door then suddenly burst open and a girls cry rang out, causing everyone to turn with a start at the action. Tom merely turned his head slightly, his gaze following the girls actions as she ran into the room, shouting things of nonsense.

She threw her arms around her father; the Minister, and tears streaked down her face. Tom couldn't tell if she was happy or not, at moments her sobs could be mistaken for laughter.

"But papa I love him!" she wailed, grabbing at the lapels of his jacket, "why won't you let me marry him, I love him! He just sent me an owl and informed me you refused to give him your blessing. Why don't you love me, papa!"

Everyone was staring, both amused and affronted at the girls crude outburst and interruption of the meeting. It wasn't until the Minister met Tom's unwavering, disapproving gaze that he ordered for them all to leave at once.

 _Gladly_ , Tom thought.

As they left the room, the Minister's shouts of anger could be heard and just as the door clicked shut there was the sound of a sharp slap. The daughter was silent after that.

Tom shook his head to himself as he followed the rest of the council to the lift. Honestly, how embarrassing that girl was behaving. Then again she was a woman, they always let their emotions get the best of them.

It was pathetic, to put it frankly. Showing ones heart so publicly would get them nowhere. As he replayed the event, Tom had to restrain himself from scoffing.

 _Love_.

A fictitious ideal people made up so they wouldn't be lonely. Now that was the true weakness, what did such a thing get people in the end? Nothing but pain and regret.

Tom had learned at a young age there was no such thing. He was never witness to it, all that surrounded him as a child was abandonment. And that's all there was. So one had to learn how to function in the loneliness, how to bask in it- and Tom was an expert.

All his life he'd been alone and now look at him, on his way to greatness. He'd never fall so low as to believing such a thing actually existed. Love got people killed, both literally and figuratively.

Take his mother for example; she was weak. Fallen for a man much beneath her, and Muggle of all things. And in the end, his father abandoned her too. Just like his mother did to him after giving birth. Her emotions had weakened her physically and mentally, she couldn't even heal herself.

Merope _let_ herself die.

At the mere thought of death a chill ran itself down Tom's spine. Consider it a god complex but he too held himself even above that. The finality of it was repulsive. What good was there in such a promise? In such uncertainty?

Nothing was worth dying for.


	7. Chamber of Secrets

**Late** one evening, Abraxas was reading to Liliana by the fire place, her head rested on his knee. It was the _Tale of the Three Brothers_ , she knew it like the back of her hand but she still enjoyed it, despite how depressing it was. 

Her favorite was that of the second brother. He cheated death itself to get his lover back, only later to give up everything to be with her truly.

Lately she had more free time, according to her mother her tutor had fallen ill and was at St. Mungo's.

"Abraxas," she muttered, watching how the flames licked out of the hearth of the fireplace. Her cheeks felt oddly warm, either from being flustered or being so close to the fire. He hummed in acknowledgement and she sighed, running a hand over her dress as she debated.

"Can you tell me more about Master Riddle? I find him most curious."

He stilled slightly, her interest in him was concerning. Though after a few moments of inner debate he concluded simply telling her was harmless. Admittedly, her imagination could get the best of her and he knew better than to tell Liliana of Tom's true nature.

"Alright," he sighed, closing the book and resting it on the table next to the chair. "What would you like to know?"

She shrugged, the action highly unladylike but she knew her brother didn't care. "Anything, tell me a story."

Thinking for a moment, he thought of a tale that was sure to peak her interest. "Did I ever tell you about what happened our fifth year?" Liliana shook her head, her eyes already alight in excitement. "No, father wouldn't let me read the papers but I heard whispers from some of the elves."

Abraxas ticked his jaw at that. He knew their father was protective of her, as most parents typically were. But even he could admit Lord Malfoy was a bit excessive. Once Liliana got thrown into the real world he worried it'd be too much for her.

"Well," he began. "In our fifth year, all was normal until complete chaos broke lose. A student had been petrified- but not by a student." He over dramatized his tone, knowing she had a thing for the theatrics and nearly laughed at his sisters captivated features.

"What was it?" She breathed, turning around so she sat on the floor in front of him.

"Patience, dear Ana, I haven't even gotten to the best point," he tsk-d. "Soon enough, every other week a student would drop and end up in the infirmary. And one night, a message was left behind in blood."

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, was this really what happened in a school? No wonder her father was cautious, nonetheless she couldn't ignore the excitement bubbling in her chest, wanting him to go on.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir... beware," Abraxas said ominously. Before Liliana could ask what that meant he continued, "shortly after that a student was killed."

Liliana started, her brows knitting together at the dreadful news. "That's terrible, what year were they in?"

"Fourth year, it was really quite a shock. They nearly shut down Hogwarts when they couldn't find who'd done it."

"Why didn't they close? It would seem most logical."

Abraxas tapped her on the head lightly, "that's where Riddle comes in. You see, he was a Prefect and held the schools students safety dear to his heart. And with the weight of a student lost, he felt guilty-"

"Did he catch them?" She interrupted, shaking Abraxas' knee eagerly. "Oh please tell me he did, it would be most noble of him."

He bit at his cheek, it irked some deep part inside of himself to be painting Tom as the hero, when in reality he was far from it. "Yes," he laughed, shoving his morality away, "Riddle was able hunt down who had been responsible for all the chaos. It was a beast, an Acromantula, who had been set loose in the castle by a filthy _half-breed_ giant."

Liliana started back at the venomous tone of her brother, she'd never heard him sound so disgusted. She couldn't blame him, she too would be angry if a mere child died all because someone decided to let a monster into the school.

Though part of it didn't make sense, how could an Acromantula petrify someone?

___________________________________

Tom was blowing on a cup of tea as he walked back to his office when he heard Lord Malfoy speaking from his own. The door was open, meaning whatever he was speaking about couldn't be of that much importance. Nonetheless Tom halted at the mention of Grindelwald.

"Really?" He heard Lord Prewett say aghast.

"Yes, pitiful news I must say. My daughters tutor’s home was found completely ruined with him laying on the floor. Dead as a doorknob. A shame, he was helping her along in her studies so well it'll be a strain to find someone new."

Tom ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in thought. It was obvious Lord Malfoy wasn't exactly fond of him, which proved to be an annoyance for Tom's plans. Nearly everyone was eating out of the palm of his hand but the old fool remained stubborn. Perhaps - and he was skilled, he could offer his services to get on the Lord's good graces. He already knew Abraxas, though he was unaware the Malfoy’s had a daughter. And what better way to pick up information than from an incompetent child?

“I beg your pardon," Tom stepped in the door way, lightly knocking once and the two men started. "I couldn't help but over hear your predicament, sir."

"Eavesdropping, were we?" Lord Prewett said with a chuckle under his breath, indicating he was merely jesting but Malfoy raised a brow.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Though I admit I heard the word 'tutor' and I couldn't just walk by and not offer my services."

"Your services? Are you offering to tutor my child? With what credentials?" Lord Malfoy leaned back in his much too large chair. He must've thought it made him look intimidating when in reality it made his frame appear smaller.

Tom sighed lightly through his nose, but a charming smile tugged at his lips nonetheless. "I graduated top of my class sir, I was even offered a teaching position afterwards."

Prewett made a sound of approval, "that's quite impressive, well done."

Tom bowed his head humbly, "thank you, sir."

Lord Malfoy didn't appear quite as moved and he waved his hand about nonchalantly, "that's very good to hear, however I fear you're too young... inexperienced, if you will."

"Oh, nonsense Actaeus. The girl might actually listen better if she had someone near her age. No one wants a griping old man breathing down their necks. It’s time for new ideas and methods!”

Tom inclined his head nearly imperceptibly in thanks to Prewett and Lord Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly, looking over the younger man in scrutiny.

Taking a step forward, with his free hand Tom placed it on his chest to show his notion was heartfelt. "It would be an _honor_ to tutor one of your children, Lord Malfoy."

He hated giving the old man praise, but if it would get him what he wanted than so be it. Lord Malfoy smirked at this, and with an over dramatic sigh he nodded his head.

"Very well."


	8. Knockturn alley

**The** ribbons that bound her corset to her body had just been fastened when there was a knock on her door. Liliana met her handmaidens gaze in the mirror and nodded, she already knew who it was. Her father carried a domineering presence wherever he went. 

Her handmaiden, Taryn, stepped back and bowed her head as Liliana called for her father to enter. The crisp, white wooded door gently swung open and in came her father, dark silken robes a stark contrast to the airiness of her room. "Good morning, Ana," his large hands held her smaller one's lightly as he placed a chaste kiss to his daughter's forehead. "Good morning, papa," she managed an easy smile despite her restless from the previous night.

_O Romeo, get out of my head._

Lord Malfoy's gold eyes landed on Taryn and he gestured to the door, "leave us." The handmaiden curtsied and said a good bye to Liliana before departing. 

Sighing through her nose, she let her father lead her to one of the silken trivette sofas that was located in the sitting area of her room. "I wish you'd be kinder to her." That earned her a very light slap to the cheek, nonetheless she flushed in embarrassment. Liliana had to get better at holding her tongue. 

"Your handmaiden is a mudblood, her being in our service is a kindness enough." Lord Malfoy looked at her pointedly down his long nose, not refraining until she nodded. "I understand papa, I'm sorry." His pale, thin lips rested into a smile as he conjured them a tea tray.

"Now, I didn't come here to scold you, I've news that I believe you'll find exciting." 

Liliana highly doubted that, but she let her features fall into polite interest as she put a single sugar cube into her tea. Her father on the other hand, put in three as well as milk. "I regret to inform you that your previous tutor has been indisposed." 

Her eyes widened and she placed a hand to her lips, stifling a surprised gasp. Guilt tugged at her insides for the lack of sorrow she felt. The old man's death isn't what caught her attention, it was the word 'previous'. Was he implying what she suspected? "That's horrible. What of his family?" She managed to breathe out, her corset was too tight.

"Well taken care of, we paid him well and they'll be compensated."

Liliana desperately wanted to ask what happened. Her curiosity often over powered her manners. Was his death boring? That of old age, wilting in bed as he slept? Or was it something more exciting? An event that wouldn't be expected, something to rapture her attention, grip at her heart, steal her breath away? Liliana scolded herself mentally, a man had died and there she was, romanticizing it. 

"They have my condolences, he was a good man." She managed to say after a long moment, her father interpreting it as shock and grief. Lord Malfoy gripped her hand, "you're an angel, too good for anyone." Liliana smiled, though she wanted him to spit out whatever he had to say next. She hated when he did that, dragged things out so he could amuse himself at her eagerness.

Liliana felt like he enjoyed it, his power over her. He controlled every aspect of her life, he monitored every action and what she was told. He was trying to shape her into the perfect bride to be, undoubtedly to marry her off. She wanted to get married, longed for it, but the notion that her father would play such a heavy part didn't sit right in her chest.

"Now with this unfortunate event, I've had to find you a new tutor."

She nodded, masking her excitement well with a somber nod, the loose stray curls of her blonde hair framing her face. 

Lord Malfoy continued, "I had feared it would take a while and the gap would hurt your studies, but luckily I've found someone I think will do you well." Her mind raced, wondering who and what type of person her father would deem worthy. That didn't comfort her much, most people her father liked were men of cruelty or they were utterly boring. 

"Now I have some doubts, however if you feel he is inadequate don't hesitate to tell me. I'll have a new teacher on our door step in a heart beat."

_Spit it out you decrepit man!_

"Tom Riddle, as I'm sure you remember your brother mentioning him. He works under me."

_Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs, and my dear Romeo I fear I can't breathe._

**Shoes** of fine leather clicked down the cobble stone streets of _Knockturn Alley_ , Tom walking the winding streets with his head held high. Darkness clung to every corner, pulsing, waiting to sweep down and over come as if it was the Valley of Death. 

Tom knew he probably shouldn't be seen walking in such an area, for his position and coworker's at the Ministry would chastise him. None the matter, he'd been navigating the inky streets of madness ever since he was a boy. He stumbled upon the alley as he went supply shopping for Hogwarts his second year. Tom couldn't help himself, the magic that vibrated from every nook and cranny had latched its hooks into him. 

He'd always come back. 

That being said, he'd just left _Borgin and Burke's_ , a lovely little shop that held dark artifacts and he'd just made a successful purchase. He'd managed to pare the price to something he saw fit, after all he wasn't going to overspend on his own heirloom. 

The jewelry box it resided in was heavy in his pocket, also thrumming with magic and a long line of history. History that tied his family, his true blood, back for generations. He walked without fear of the events the night had in store for him, he was excited and his heart slammed into his rib cage like the lion did as it's teeth bared, salivating at the sight of Daniel in the den. 

Warm, orange light trickled into the inky blue shadows as Tom neared _Diagon Alley_. It was late, shops were closing and he bowed his head at a few men who passed by. Weaving his way down the wider streets, he reached the door to the pub of _The Leaky Cauldron_. In this environment, swells of laughter and singing overcame the previously hushed hair. 

Tom's skin felt damp with the eccentricities around him, the taste of alcohol licking at him and trying to shove its way down his throat. Honeyed wine and mead, fire whiskey and Irish, lust and damnation, submission and dominance. 

_Sin_. 

He could get drunk in it, and he would, but not there and not now. He managed to get to the front door, and with the creak of the old wood the veil of temptation lifted and the night's cool breeze caressed his cheeks and ran its fingers through his hair. 

Muggle London greeted him, by far more busier but the streets were beginning to die down. Lighting a cigarette, he placed his hands in his pockets and started down the street. The hunt had begun and he was hungry, his soul twisting and thrashing in repulsion and need, the two feelings clashing heads violently. 

This wouldn't be his first time, he's done it thrice, and now he was by far more prepared for the long night of exhaustion ahead. It got easier after each time, a numbness swelled. He ached. He screamed. His soul pleaded but all he would do was catch it on fire again. The inferno not in front of his dark eyes, but behind them. Roasting him from the inside out. It was addicting. 

He walked, and walked, eyes snaking around his surroundings, looking out for who would accompany him on this night. He walked until he could hear the cry of Westminster in the distance, the stars winking at him from above and the moon seemed to change her face, turning away from the activity that was soon to start. 

Then he saw her, his _Dahlia_ for the night. 

She lulled in the windowsill. There was no reason for her to be at such an hour, the night was cool but she still fanned herself with a delicate, painted hand. Their eyes locked, her smile curving and red, just like the dress that hung from her slender shoulders. Tom made no other indication than throwing his cigarette down and snuffing out the flame with the toe of his shoe and walked towards her door.

A moment passed, the jewelry box growing heavier with each passing cloud. Then his _Dahlia_ opened the door. She was lovely, with her striking features, only endowed to a woman through experience. Eyes green like two budding leaves glowed from her sunken eyes, the smoke of her makeup hiding her. 

"I don't see men like you around here often," her voice was purr, the black cat an omen that rested on her shoulders idly. He stepped into her threshold, the magic around him cracking with anticipation as he took her into his arms. He kicked the door shut with his foot, his mouth pressed to her neck as he spoke, "there are no men like me."

"You better pay as well as you dress-" his _Dahlia_ said in a whisper but he silenced her with a hand pressed to her bleeding lips of red cherry blossoms. "Don't talk," the deep baritone shuddered out of him and she obeyed. The wickedness in her would play to whatever role he desired, and she took to parting her lips and his digits slid into her mouth. 

He kissed her, her soft budding breast straining against her silken gown as he pushed her harder into the wall. Tom was driven to possess her, his nerves on fire, his fingers pricking with droplets of blood as he sought to grab hold of this _shameless flower of the damned_. His bewitching tongue made her sigh out heavily, her hands digging into his scalp and pulling as hard as she dared and he entered her. 

His _Dahlia_ screamed into the night, his heirloom resting between her breast, nestling in the cave of her rib cage, her incense a sacrifice to Tom's ambition. 

_I am cold and heavy. I'm overwhelmed by_

_indifference._

_It's simply fact, unconcerned by lust or_

_discontent._

_I am not brutal, but realistic -_

_The searing heat of iron, branding skin._

_It may be a part of my heart. But it vanishes._

_Light and Ignorance divide us incessantly._

_It infests my soul for asylum._

_Then it becomes_ animalistic _, carving away my_

_remorse._

_I am vital for its survival. It envelopes and_

_possesses._

_Each trial there's a swell that replaces_

_humanity._

_In myself I have drowned innocence, and in me_

_a_

_Creature begins to rise from an echo, like a repressed_

_nightmare._

**He** left his _Dahlia_ in a permanent slumber, marks of intimacy littering her skin. At least everyone would know the whore didn't die alone.


	9. The Dinner

**Sitting** in one of the drawing rooms, afternoon light poured through the large windows. The air in the room was crisp, the smell of lavender coating everything like fog. Liliana was currently sewing, her fingers expertly working the needle and thread as she outlined the shape of a snake coiling around a red myrtle flower, its fangs dripping venom into the center. 

"That's rather barbaric, my love." 

Liliana jumped, turning from her spot on the creme colored bergère to spot her mother over looking her hand work. She smiled gently as Rhodope sat across from her, bringing out her own sewing materials. "I know," she began, her voice airy as always. "But mama, I've had a flourish of inspiration lately and I just had to make it."

Rhodope let a light laugh pass her lips, her dark hair pulled into an elegant hair do while two braids with blonde streaks looped around her ears. "Inspiration? Where from?" Liliana resisted biting her lip as she thought over her answer, debating with herself on whether or not to be earnest. "Consider it from the heart" it was truth enough. 

Her mother raised an elegant brow as she rang for tea. "Well at least you'll have conversation for later, I expect it to be rather dull for you at dinner tonight."

"What about dinner?" She asked as Taryn made her way into the room, carrying a silver tea tray. "Your father didn't inform you? Sometimes I fear he's too forgetful." Rhodope shook her head and began to pour herself a cup of tea. Taryn began to back away, eyes downcast, but Liliana managed to catch her gaze and sent her handmaiden a thankful wink. Taryn's face remained neutral, however there was the slightest crease of a smile at the edge of her lips. 

"So," she blew on her own tea after adding a single sugar cube. "Why is dinner going to be dull?"

"It'll most likely be all business. I would say you could take your supper to your study, however you're at the age where you need to learn the makings of turning into a fine lady. Now, remember this in case you find yourself bored: be idle and be ignorant. That's the only way you'll make a way for yourself in this world."

Liliana bit her cheek, her blue eyes watching how the brown liquid in the china swirled. "What if I don't want to be?"

"Don't want to be what?"

"Idle or ignorant. You said so yourself, I'm a bright young lady. Why must I hide it?"

Her mother smiled, her lips pressed together and she looked more motherly in that moment. "My love, you _are_ a bright young lady. And I'm proud of you. However, men don't want a wife who's so... prominent." 

"Prominent?" 

"Your innocence works to your favor, just as well as your beauty." Well, Liliana didn't like that at all. This wasn't necessarily new information, it just hasn't been so vocalized to her before. The words hit her like a dagger. "Is that all a man wants? Innocence from his wife?" 

Rhodope thought for a moment, reflecting on her own marriage with Lord Malfoy. 

"Innocence is what men most demand from girls, and women must not only be innocent but also give the outward impression of being innocent, my love. Don't you ever wonder why you're only permitted to wear certain fabrics?" Her mother said, Liliana furrowed her brows as she glanced down at her light blue gown, with white stitching running along her bodice. No, she hadn't thought of it. 

"White muslin," Rhodope continued. "Typical of purity, with delicate shades of blue and pink next in popularity. The stamp of masculine approval was placed upon ignorance of the world, _meekness_ , lack of opinions, general helplessness and weakness; in short, recognition of female inferiority to the male." She said it so casually, as if she was talking of the sureness of weather. 

Liliana felt scandalized, and quite honestly offended. Was that truly how her mother felt? Or was she echoing the voice of her husband? She shivered, did _her_ husband expect her to give the same speech to their children? 

_Romeo, I fear I find this world exhausting._

Rhodope mistook the worry in her daughters eyes, "oh don't worry, my sweet child," she laughed. "Your future of a successful marriage was guaranteed from the moment you were born, be thankful for your name. Your marriage will surely be fruitful, for that alone will it be possible for you to rise in the world and make your father proud." 

Liliana couldn't wait to get married. She always knew her marriage would be arranged, but that didn't stop her from wishing on the stars that she'd fall in love with her husband to be. Preferably before they actually wed. However, with what her mother was telling her, plus with the heavy hand her father would play, she felt her hope cower a little. The bright cosmos lied to her if this was what awaited her, she wouldn't have it. 

_I defy you, stars. If my fate is so depressing I do not want it._

"Mama," she started, her gaze drifting to the gardens outside. Liliana let out a slow breath, she's always been afraid to ask this. "Did you love father? Before you got married, I mean. Or was it after?" 

Setting down her cup, Rhodope folded her hands in her lap as she looked at her daughter, causing the girl to shift her position. "I-" she stopped and sighed, her head tilting to the side in thought. "We care for one another, there's a reliance. As there is in every marriage." 

Liliana mustered up a small smile. _Dear Romeo, I don't think that'll be enough for me. O teach me how I should forget to think. I do not want to think anymore, I'm tired of it._

"You're new tutor is joining us tonight."

Her hand slipped and the scolding hot liquid of tea poured onto her dress, despite the many layers it burned her skin. "Liliana!" Her mother gasped out, eyes wide at her daughters clumsy behavior. She merely blinked, her hand holding the tea cup limply, "Master Riddle is coming here? For dinner?" 

"Yes. Now get a hold of yourself child. Clean your dress before your father sees you," Rhodope chastised, clicking her tongue in disapproval. 

Remembering herself, she flinched at the heat soaking through her dress. She could simply wave her hand to clear it away, however she feared to show how advanced her magic had become. Her skills were supposed to be meek, only able to conjure a small matter of things. For, if she was too advanced, she wouldn't have to rely on anyone. She wouldn't have to rely on her father- Liliana wouldn't have to rely on her husband. Despite herself, she liked the thought of that. 

Being self reliant had a seductive appeal.

Shaking her head, she stood up. "I apologize mama, my hand is just sore from my hand work. If you'd excuse me." She bowed her head and curtsied, walking out of the room as fast as she dared.

As soon as she turned the corner, she fell against the wall, hand splayed to her chest as she tried to catch her breathing. Her corset was definitely much too tight. Liliana couldn't believe it, Tom Riddle would be eating with her tonight. She was finally getting to meet him. Her heart raced. How would his voice sound? How did his hands look when he handled cutlery? Were his cheeks naturally flushed? She found herself grinning.

A clock chimed somewhere nearby, bringing her out of her thoughts. Her dress, she needed to get it fixed. At the thought, she grinned and took off in a sprint down the hall, lifting her dress as her heeled boots hit lightly against the carpet. If she was meeting Tom Riddle, she thought she might as well take the extra time to look presentable. First impressions were important. 

She made it to her room, out of breath and she shut the door closed with a soft click, her back pressing into the wood. Liliana couldn't take it anymore, as she stepped away from the door, she locked it with a gesture of her hand. When she passed by the large mirror on her mantle piece, she caught the sight of her cheeks and how red they were. It looked as if someone had pressed two dark, bloody red cherries to her skin. Liliana hoped her body got in more control by the time dinner came round. 

Undoing her corset, she let out a sharp breath of relief as the restricting garment fell to the floor in a heap. She shot a searing glare at it as she made her way to her powder room. Her platinum blonde hair shone in the light coming in from the sky light, her stray curls wild and she brushed them back as she observed the stain in her dress. 

Layer after layer she removed, and once she was only in her slip she cleared away the tea stain. What to wear? Her mind went back to what her mother said, despite her gut feeling to reject the ideals expected of her. Nonetheless, she wanted to appeal to Master Riddle. She couldn't help it. 

Walking back into her room, she looked at herself in the mirror, at her snow white skin and whiter hair. Her lips were flush with pink and she licked them, giving them a gloss. Raising her hands, she pinched her now paled cheeks and watched as color bled into them. 

Delicate shades of blue, pink and white. That's what her mother said, that's what men want. That's what she needed to be. Delicate. Her eyes drifted to the part of her wall where all her books were hidden, and she thought of the scarlet dress Juliet wore on the night of Lord Capulet's ball, when Romeo first laid eyes on her. When he first fell in love. Liliana shook her head, she couldn't be caught dead wearing such a scandalizing color as red. Especially to a family dinner. 

Still, she wondered if she did dare to be so brave and wear red, how would Master Riddle look at her? Would he turn up his nose due to her apparent lack of innocence? No, she couldn't have that. Pink, Liliana would wear pink, it was the closest shade to scandal, just more subtle. 

Her eyes traced the curve of her hips, their outline visible through the sheerness of her slip.

_Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night; Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die._

Liliana shook her head, her cheeks on fire again at her troubling thoughts.

**Her** heart beat thudded valiantly in her chest, clawing at her rib cage like a crazed animal. Her throat started to burn and she had to wipe her hands on her dress as she neared the dining hall. She was late, which she was already scolding herself for but she knew the glare her father would send her would be much worse. Nonetheless, her nerves were in a jumble. 

"Get a hold of yourself, Liliana," she whispered to herself. She was just about to enter when she heard a deep chuckle roll through the air, thundering around her like an awaiting storm. She froze. _I can't do this, I can't._ This was so much different, so much more. Her mind felt fuzzy at the realization she was actually about to meet Master Riddle. She was about to hear his voice form a greeting. She was about to see the shade of his eyes, the style of his hair, his lips as he took a drink of wine. 

What if he didn't live up to her expectations? There was a romance to not knowing your lover, they could never disappoint you, never ail you... never touch you. She sighed, would Master Riddle ever touch her? He was going to be her tutor after all, but her studies didn't include much hands on activity. Liliana thought back to her previous tutor, god rest his soul, for when he slapped her hand when she yawned. She didn't want Tom Riddle to slap her. Cruelty surrounded her enough. 

Straightening her back, Liliana pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was a Malfoy, it was about time she acted like it. Smoothing down her dress, she entered the room. 

_O Romeo... you are truly beautiful._

**Dark** eyes the shade of ebony pulled away from Abraxas as she entered the room, following her as she went to greet her parents. She didn't waver at the crudeness of Lord Malfoy's gaze, she merely leaned over and placed a kiss upon his cheek with reddened lips. Tom could hear the faint whisper of an apology under her breath as she turned to greet her mother. 

"Ana, you've joined us at last." Abraxas called out, beaming at his sister, his own cheeks were already tinged due to the wine he'd been guzzling down. When she turned, her soft pink gown swayed and their eyes locked on to one another. 

They were so blue, they almost seem to shine due to the sheer paleness of the rest of her. 

"Apologies for being late dear brother, I seem to be adopting your habits," her voice was gentle as she walked over. Abraxas chuckled. Tom spared him a glance as he stood up, resting a hand behind him as he held his other out. "Lady Ana, I presume?" 

Her dusted pink cheeks flickered a darker shade as she rested her small hand in his, "Lady Liliana, please." He nodded once and raised her hand to his lips, resting a feather light kiss to her knuckles. Liliana was able to restrain a shiver, but he took note of the goosebumps that erupted on her flesh. "Lady Liliana," he corrected himself. There was something akin to a child in her. From her height, her soft skin, the shade of her dress, and her eyes. The eyes are what did it. They were opened wide, a wonder lurking behind the exquisite Aegean shade. 

Although she wasn't as young as he was expecting, he felt his task of getting information out of her would still be simple. As he looked at her doting features, he also realized it would be terrible fun. Tom smiled at her charmingly, with a touch of cruelty in his lips.

_Terrible fun indeed._

"Master Riddle, I presume?" She echoed his words with her own supple smile. Tom hummed and gestured for her to sit. Liliana was about to take the seat next to him when Lord Malfoy called out, "Ana dear child, come sit here. Your mother tells me you've started a new project."

He watched as her lips parted, as if she was about to object, but after a moment she deflated and nodded her head obediently. "Yes papa." She tilted her head down at Tom and took the seat by her father, which was across from him. "So," Lord Malfoy started, "tell me of your burst of inspiration, I'm glad you're keeping yourself busy." 

Her eyes flitted towards Tom and he watched that tantalizing blush creep into her skin, this time also flushing up the curve of her slender neck and the top of her chest. The image of his heirloom resting between his latest _Dahlia's_ breasts popped into his mind. His dark eyes roamed over Liliana as she spoke, talking about her sewing project. 

You _'d make a lovely- no._ He stopped himself, Liliana had too much of a name behind her, despite the appeal of taking her for his own ambition, Tom knew better than to act so recklessly. Her class kept her safe, Tom hoped she knew that. Well, safe for the most part. He drew back into the conversation when her design was brought up. 

"It's a snake and a myrtle flower, the snake is coiling around it." She sipped her honey wine slowly, he could tell she wasn't use to it due to her expression. Tom raised a brow at her, "a myrtle flower? Those are quite beautiful." She nodded, though she wouldn't meet his eye.

_Naughty girl_ , he smirked into his goblet. 

Myrtle flowers were the symbol of virginity, one could make many assumptions of what the snake meant. Clearly her father didn't know, for Tom was sure he would be spluttering out how improper it was. Sure, Tom should bring notice to her behavior, he was going to be her tutor after all, correcting her etiquette as they went. Now however, he thought why take away his amusement? 

He liked seeing Lord Malfoy ignorant, ignorant to his daughter's intentions right beneath his nose. "You know, I find the language of flowers fascinating." Sick satisfaction churned in his stomach as her eyes widened before she remembered herself. _Yes dear Liliana, you've been caught._

Later into the night, they all found themselves in Lord Malfoy's study. Rhodope and her husband were speaking matters of finance to Abraxas and Tom found Liliana strolling the titles that lined the shelves of the far left wall. As soon he was within ear shot of her he saw her tense, as if a wind exhaled chillingly on her neck. 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he came to stand beside her, "any titles you'd recommend?" Liliana let herself laugh. He'd noticed that throughout dinner, nothing was natural from her. She had to _permit_ herself to do things. If he were to be honest, she was an interesting creature, by far more than he father and of course Abraxas. Her brother was a disaster of fortune. Perhaps that was why Lord Malfoy was over protective.

It was blatantly obvious during dinner. 

"I regret to say this, but my father has dreadful taste. Unless of course you're looking to read for educational purposes." Her voice was quiet, as it had been all night. He wondered what she'd sound like unreserved. His _Dahlia's_ screams rang in his ear and he nearly winced but settled for shaking his head. "Academic literature is a hobby of mine, however poetry, I have to admit, is a secret passion." Lying, he was lying. But with the way she was looking at him he knew that was a smart move. Best to appease her, get her comfortable.

"You enjoy poetry? Your pardon, but I didn't take you for the type."

_You'd find many surprising things about me, dear._

"To lay waste to one's self over poetry is an privilege," he let the words drip off his tongue, like the honey wine she'd been drinking so carefully. Her lips parted, tinged red as she stared up at him, like he was some kind of art work a master had just revealed. Tom's eyes bored into hers, taking in the heart shape of her face down to the swell of her breast against her corset. It was bound rather tight.

She cleared her throat, "is poetry in your lesson plans?"

"If we've the time for such luxury, Lord Malfoy has me on a strict schedule."

Her brows furrowed at that. Tom could assume the Malfoy's wanted to hurry and marry her off, since Abraxas seemed so keen on lazing about instead of expanding the family's influence. That being said, Lord Malfoy gave Tom a basic list of topics to cover. When he first viewed it he scoffed in disbelief. The magic he wanted him to teach her was of the level of a second year, at most. Then he remembered a note that was written at the bottom.

"What of your wand, Lady Liliana?"

She visibly deflated, and much to his amusement, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can see how that's going to be a slight obstacle. I'm afraid I don't have one."

"Is it broken? I'm sure matters can be arranged where it's mended-"

"No," she shook her head, sighing as she walked to the window. "My father won't let me have one." Despite himself, he blinked in surprise and the expression was clear on his face. That was ridiculous, and she smiled at his shock. "Yes I know, he said it isn't needed. And it's best not to argue with papa, he knows best."

That was laughable. 

Moonlight filtered into the room, intricate designs in metal lined the sides. Half his face was covered in blue while the orange light of the fire licked the other side. It was a beautiful clash of color. "Do you want a wand, Lady Liliana?" As he observed her, he came to realize how truly powerless she was, how vulnerable. _Oh, it'd be so easy to just steal you from under his nose._

Liliana glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "I really shouldn't say." He shrugged one shoulder, the action small but it made her smile. He was making himself appear more laid back in order to get her comfortable. Best to be a chameleon of character when trying to get what he wanted. "I see no harm. If you want something, you ought speak it aloud. There's no harm in mere words."

There was plenty of harm in them, the art of manipulation is what crafted language. 

She seemed to mull it over for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to see if her father was watching them. Tom shook his head, she was too reliant, that wouldn't work. "Don't look at him," his voice was a deep baritone, wrapping itself warmly around her in a masked command. "Look at me, and tell me what you want."

Slowly, step by step, he'd get her to fall into his grasp. They'd be spending five days a week with each other for the months to come, and he needed her to come to him first. In due time. If she knew something, she'd come to him, not her father. If Liliana formed a reliance to him, she'd be his little spy. 

Women could be so useful.

Liliana nodded, a more rebellious smile threatening to breach her plush lips, "yes, I want a wand. I've wanted one for years, and it drives me mad he won't let me have one." Fear sparked in her eyes as she let too much slip, the sight intoxicating. Fear was a lulling emotion to cater to. Tom smiled at her reassuringly, placing a light hand to her back as he guided her towards the book case. "Perhaps we can help each other then, Lady Liliana."

She raised a brow, "help each other? What might you need help with?" He shook his head in mock earnest, "I'm afraid to tell it in such broad company, perhaps when we're alone." Liliana flushed as he planted the idea of their sure to come privacy in her head, all the while he left his touch on her. Now she was beat red, her blonde curls looking starkly white against her cheeks. Like a rose crusted in snow. "When we're alone," she nodded, a bit breathlessly. 

_Merlin, you'd make a perfect Dahlia._


	10. Lessons

**At** the crack of dawn Liliana was sat up in her massive bed, the light and fluffed blankets swarmed around her like a cloud. She couldn't stop biting at her lips, her mind still reeling over the dream she had. The absolute splendor and horror of it. 

**Liliana** was draped in red, like the gods had wrapped her in layers of velvet rose petals, watching as a man sung a charming song about lust and adultery. Her heart thudded in her breast, begging to be let out just this once when someone took hold of her hand. 

She gasped and the couple standing next to her eyed her oddly. She smiled and dipped her head, letting the warmth of the stranger's hand sink into her. No, this wasn't a stranger.

It was her Romeo. 

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." A soft kiss to the back of her hand sent chills ravishing through her, clawing up her veins and stopping her heart. 

Liliana turned to him and felt her breath leave her. Her beautiful Romeo's dark eyes glinted through his mask and slowly, with a pale hand, lifted it to reveal his features carved from Aphrodite herself. He was a sudden light, much too handsome and clever for this wilting city of Verona.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this," she stepped closer to him, her neck craning up and he gazed down at her. She lifted her hand and he mirrored her, their palms splayed and nearly touching.

"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." 

Their hands pressed together, slowly, and gentle, their fingers then folding together and he pulled her closer, his head bending down to hers, their noses brushing. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" 

Liliana's voice shook, his dark, ebony curls hanging above his eyes. "Aye, pilgrim, lips they must use in prayer."

His other arm wrapped around her waist, her red bleeding through the cracks of his slender pale fingers. His tone was deep and shook the air, "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." His breath was hot and fanned above her lips, making her stomach pool and fill with desire. 

She swallowed thickly, "saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake."

His eyes then turned black, like she was peering into a void and suddenly fear took hold of her. Clashing with the yearn for his touch and confusing her. "Then move not," he continued, "while my prayer's effect I take."

His lips then lowered to hers in a kiss, but it was like he was too far away. Before she could process he pulled back, a cruel smirk on his soft mouth.

"Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."

Liliana screamed as darkness started to shoot out of him, dragging out from his eyes, pooling from his mouth and staining his teeth. He looked monstrous. 

**When** that happened she shot up in bed, sweat drenching her brow and her chest heaving. She hadn't been able to fall asleep since then. As the blue tinted early morning light crept through her curtains she raised a hand to her lips, trembling as she remembered the next line. 

_Then have my lips the sin that they have took._

Shaking her head, finally she rolled out of bed, her feet padding quietly as she made her way to the bathroom. Liliana knew it didn't do well to dwell on such dreams. Her imagination was very unforgiving at times. 

Seeing her reflection in the large mirror, she noticed how flushed she was and blinked at herself. She _felt_ different and she couldn't place why, her stomach felt funny and her ears were ringing in a low hum. Her blue eyes went to her lips as how bitten at they were, making them swollen. 

Liliana couldn't believe she actually dreamed about kissing her brothers school friend, let alone her tutor. Not to mention he also worked under her father. Merlin, if her Lord Malfoy knew of the things that ran through her head. 

When she began changing, she pulled down her undergarments and paused at what appeared to be a dampness between her legs. At the sight her stomach swirled again and she pressed a hand to her cheek, she was awfully warm. Was she sick? 

She didn't recall this ever being a part of her cycle, unless her mother left out some information. She could ask, but the thought alone felt embarrassing enough. She waved her hand and cleared the strange wetness. 

Just as she got changed into a different pare of undergarments, Taryn walked in and urged her to sit down, beginning on her hair. "What style are you thinking for today my Lady?" She hummed as she brushed back Liliana's hair. 

She observed herself for a moment, wondering what Tom would like. It was her first lesson today, and since she had stumbled a bit on her first impression she wanted to make up for it. Then she grinned, the action tugging at her cheeks, "I've something in mind."

**As** she walked to her study, she smoothed down her hair as she came to a stop in front of the large french doors. Taryn had done her hair into a braided up-do, jewel pins scattered in the woven bun. With a deep breath, she entered. 

Tom was sat at the large oak desk, three massive windows behind him filtering in light and painted his dark curls a lighter shade of chestnut brown. When he looked up through his lashes she felt light headed, it worsening as he smiled charmingly and stood up. 

He moved with grace, all lean muscle as he came to a stop in front of her. "Good morning, Lady Liliana," he took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Giving her flashbacks to her dream and she made herself smile. 

"Good morning, Master Riddle." Liliana's voice was even and airy, caring around the room like the soft breeze tickling the windows. 

He gestured for her to sit down at the chair he conjured across from his on the desk. Books and parchment littered the top, and he had a goblet that was filled with a handful of different, beautiful quills. "So, what are we starting on today?" she questioned, eyeing some the books. All academic of course, none of them catching her eye. 

"Consider this an entry examination."

Liliana blinked up at him, "an entry exam? What for?"

Tom sighed through his nose and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk, looking down at her. She shifted in her seat, she didn't like him looking at her like that, it reminded her of her father. 

The image she had built of Tom Riddle in her head began to shake a little and desperate hands shot out to steady the polished marble from crumbling. 

"Lady Liliana, I'm sorry but from what I've read your academic level is that of a thirteen year old," there were undercurrents of disappointment in his tone and she flushed. It wasn't her fault her studies were so behind, it was her fathers. She wanted to show him she could do so much more, she was so much more capable than any of them thought. Liliana hated how he was looking at her as if she was a child. Incapable of getting her own footing. 

Tom tilted his head to the side, clearly seeing she wanted to say something. "Don't waste my time, Lady Liliana, If you wish to speak, say so. I'm a busy man, I didn't take extra leave from my Ministry position to babysit."

Her mouth fell open slightly, she was _not_ a child. Already he was so much different from what he painted himself as at dinner. But he spoke to her so openly, and he offered her the gateway to speak her mind back. Something she's never been granted before. 

"My father has been regulating my courses ever since I began them, most of them are just history lessons. I find them very boring," she bit her lip, messing with her dress before continuing slowly. "I know my father probably gave you a strict list of things to teach me, but I ask you to expand that."

She looked up at him and found Tom looking at her intently, his hands in a steeple beneath his chin. "Go on," he drawled. 

"You said we could help each other." 

His lips pulled into a subtle grin, light dimples teasing his cheeks. Merlin, he was so beautiful. She didn't think that would ever change. Images of inky blackness ripping through him flashed in her mind but she shook the visions away. Her Romeo was sitting in front of her, now and well and whole. 

"Yes, I did. What did you have in mind for your studies?" 

"What did _you_ have in mind for help?" She countered bravely, diverting his question and he chuckled. The sound rumbling in her ears like thunder. "In all due time, Lady Liliana. Right now is about your studies. I'm assuming you also still have a need for a wand?" She nodded and glanced towards the doors, fear of her father listening in nipping at her chest.

She flinched when they swung shut, but did so with a soft click and turned back to Tom, his expression neutral but his eyes mischievous. "Our lessons will remain in private. Forgive me for my honesty, but I too don't prefer the lurking of your father. It can be very distracting."

Liliana laughed before she could stop herself, her corset straining, "I bet." Clearing her throat, she looked down, "I apologize-"

Tom shook his head, "you have a lovely laugh, don't apologize for it." His eyes drank in the blush blooming under her cheeks. Lady Liliana turned her gaze to the quills, "you flatter me too much I'm afraid, Master Riddle. Soon enough I'll be too much for my dear mother and father to bear."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be any of their concern. You're a young woman after all, you're nearly there."

His tone was a gentle caress that kissed her ears and she felt herself leaning forward, "nearly where?" Tom too leaned forward, catching a waft of lavender from her. His eyes glowed and he gestured a hand towards the ceiling.

"The world. Everything is in your grasp if only you know where to look."

He reached out a hand and she swallowed thickly as he took hold of her chin. Their gazes locked before he tilted her head up and gasped. He'd enchanted the ceiling to look like the night sky, the northern lights glittering and waving like silk. Tom tapped her chin and she blinked back at him, her eyes looking as if the cosmos poured into them.

"I'll get you your wand, Lady Liliana. But I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," she said breathlessly. Her mind was a jumble, she wasn't thinking straight. Her head turned as she followed his movements as he stood up, walking around his desk to lean against it right in front of her. Liliana had to crane her neck at a sharp angle just to meet his eyes. 

He was silent for a moment before slowly, almost hesitantly, brushing a thumb along her cheek bone, he was observing her. Watching her reactions to his touch. The thought excited her even though she should feel affronted. He shouldn't be touching her like this. 

Liliana's breath hitched at the soft touch and he leaned his head down, "do you trust me?" His voice was a whisper and she nodded, her senses overwhelmed and she felt that swirling in her stomach again. He smelt like tobacco and it was heavenly. She usually hated the smell, but he made it alluring. 

Tom's thumb traced along her jaw before his fingers lightly trailed down her slender neck, "say it." It was a command, something she was good at taking. Her tongue felt heavy, like it was coated in honey as she pushed the words out, "I trust you."

He hummed and trailed his index finger up the center of her throat before stopping under her chin, his face coming dangerously close and she felt like she was hyperventilating. His nose brushed hers, "when the time comes I need you to promise me you'll do whatever I ask."

Liliana's brows furrowed, "what do you mean?"

Tom settled her with his eyes, so close to hers she could see the golden flecks scattered in them. "Do you trust me?" he repeated and she nodded, "I do."

"Then promise me, and don't ask questions. You'll understand in all due time. _Promise me_." His warm breath was fanning her lips and her mind was running around in a daze and her heart screamed. It was too much, he was too close, his touch was too warm, and his words were too gentle. 

"I promise."

_O Romeo, what sins will you make me commit?_


	11. Planting the Seed

**Over** their past few lessons- which didn't involve much learning, Tom mainly made her review- something shifted. It completely threw Liliana off her axis and sent her into a whirlwind of confusion and annoyance. After his much too inappropriate behavior: touching her and talking to her like _that_ , he suddenly seemed like a whole other person.

Within a span of two weeks she had seen three different Tom Riddle's, all the while she was protecting her Romeo in her head with bared teeth. She couldn't let that version, _her_ version, of him crumble or else she'd have nothing. Her mental image of Tom was the only consistent thing about him.

There was his gentle and seductive side, getting her to promise who knows what blasphemous things. There was the studious-tutor side of him that was all business and curt words. And then there was this version, which she hated the most.

He was degrading.

Tom would make comments about every little thing he found wrong about her, and not just academic wise. He wasn't as laid back as she'd hoped, he'd critique her posture, her hair, what she wore, how she spoke, even how she held her quill.

Call her impatient but she gave up trying to impress him with her dresses, seeing as nothing appeared to agree with him. He came across as a man with no taste. No... he had the inkling for _something_ , the passion was clear in his eyes. She just didn't know what it was. Or if it was even something she could offer him.

Liliana would leave dressing up for her Romeo to her dreams.

She also had never considered herself to be short tempered, but again and again his words, spoken so beautifully, stung and carved away at her skin. It was like she was a block of marble he had found to be too stubborn, chipping away at her until one day there might be nothing left. "How can you be so inept? You're a Malfoy, act like it." He said sharply which drew her from her thoughts and she flexed her fingers in her lap, clenching her jaw. She was so much more capable than he knew and she longed to show him. Not to win his approval, but prove him wrong.

_Your head would look lovely on a spike in our front gardens._

Her eyes widened at her sudden violent thought. Tom raised a brow at her, taking in her sudden frightened expression. "I'm sorry," Liliana blurted and stood up, the chair scraping against the floor and he looked up at her, now confused. "But you'll have to excuse me."

"I didn't come here to-"

"Babysit? Yes I know, you seem very keen on reminding me how much of a child I am. But if you need a reminder, as if it wasn't obvious, I can get you fired with five words." Her voice came out piercing and clear, a sharp contrast to her usual airy coolness. She couldn't help it, her corset was straining against her breasts and her ribs were screaming and he was infuriating.

"Lessons are over for today," she finished and spun around, the imprint of his amused eyes making her feel even more heated and confused. She got enough criticism from her parents and she did not need it from him.

Once she walked a hall down, she fell against the wall, hand splayed against her chest as she tried to calm down her breathing. She felt like crying, which was stupid. Why cry over a man who would enjoy to see the tears? Liliana's mind went back to her dream of when darkness pooled out of Tom, and she wondered if that was coming true. Did he really see her as some incompetent child who he could tear down? Was it a power play?

She then thought of how sweet he first was, how open, how gentle. How his fingers trailed over her skin like wind and she shivered. She'd promised him to do whatever he asked when the time comes, and she hated herself for still wanting to go through with it. Liliana never broke her promises, _ever_. And breaking her word over him, made it feel like he was winning in some weird way.

Liliana would not let Tom break her morale, even if that meant he got what he wanted.

_O Romeo, help me. I don't think the stars are on my side anymore._

Perhaps they never were.   
  
  


**Later** that evening, Tom returned to the Ministry, smiling to himself as he replayed Liliana's little outburst. It was amusing to watch her pretend to have power, _real_ power. No, she was just a little girl trying to act like she actually had a say. Yes, she was a Malfoy, but the youngest and the daughter.

Perhaps she was trying to express as much authority as she could muster for now, seeing as within the next year Liliana would undoubtedly be married off and under her husband's whim for life.

Unless she decided to be naughty, committing an adulterous crime against god.

Now _that_ would be amusing.

Tom chuckled as smoke poured out of his mouth, reviewing paperwork, when someone suddenly knocked on the door of his office. Tapping the cigarette on an ash tray, he called, "enter."

Charles Dumont, an official just a few years older him, opened the door and appeared out of breath. Tom raised a brow, "what is it?"

"The Minister's called a meeting, urgent."

"When?"

"Now, sir."

Aggravated, Tom quickly stood up, snuffing out his cigarette and followed Charles out the door. Their steps padded quietly among the carpet, as they reached the lifts he was greeted by a dozen of other wizards, all confused and some anxious. If it weren't for the lack of reporters, Tom would've assumed it was a press conference.

After reaching the right floor, bodies piled into the large meeting room, the massive windows' curtains closed to block out the view of the atrium. Tom raised a brow at some anxious faces, including Lord Malfoy. Who of which, didn't bother to spare him a glance.

They rarely saw each other when at the Manor, thank Merlin. Malfoy was either always at the Ministry or some far off corner in his study. Liliana's rooms were on the complete opposite of the estate, which made him smile.

He could practically do anything, and Lord Malfoy would be ignorant to it all.

As he sat down, crossing his feet at the ankle, the Minister started, at first pointless so Tom lit another cigarette and let his mind trail.

Yes, Malfoy would be ignorant indeed. The amount of power Tom already held in that household and no one knew. It was thrilling, their daughter was already partially under his thumb. Gullible and innocent, though he saw potential for a bit of a bite.

_Dahlia Dahlia Dahlia..._

She'd be so perfect, and the thrill of having someone like her, with such a family name, it'd be remarkable and the thought alone was intoxicating. He pictured himself touching her lightly again, watching how her skin flushed and her eyes shone, looking up at him so dotingly.

Tom could see his feather light touch then tightening, shocking her and scaring her. Stopping her from being able to breathe before letting go again to ignite her own excitement. Her breasts pulsing against the constraints of her dress and corset. _Why do you tie it so tight? It's like you want them to spill out._ Tom would lure her into wanting the danger. He wanted her to crave it.

It was always better when they enjoyed it themselves, but a fear factor was vital.

Liliana would be an entirely different _Dahlia_ for him. One he knew he would get lost in. The power that would drip off her as he moved, eliciting the most beautiful of sounds from her lips, it felt too good to be true. Too good to even imagine.

Currently, his eyes were on the rest of the founders objects from Hogwarts. He already had Slytherin's locket, only three more to go.

Tom's mind sunk further, deeper into the possibilities of sin and pleasure. Picturing Liliana thrashing and screaming... the diadem. Yes, that was it. The diadem would look splendid atop her head, spun from the gold of an angel's nimbus. There were whispers it was abroad, the highest possibility was Albania.

He could picture it now, the lost diadem perched on her head like a rightful crown as he claimed her and made her his next _Dahlia_. Tom could envision the tendons in her neck stretching as she mewled, screamed, how blood would bead upon her snow kissed skin like the rubies of pomegranates, damning her eternally.

Snapping out of it, Tom shifted in his seat and bit his cheek to stop himself from hissing. He was painfully hard at the moment. No, he couldn't touch her yet, not to that extent at least.

"And I regret to inform," the Minister said, his voice wobbling and Tom observed how pathetic the old man looked in that moment. Men of weakness didn't deserve such a position. Such power over a nation. His skin was sallow, he'd grown fat over the years and his hair was thinning. His eyes were red rimmed and his hands shook. Tom remembered how his daughter had ran into their last meeting, bawling about a failed marriage attempt.

"Grindelwald is due to push past the border any day now. It could be weeks or months. Per chance tomorrow." The Minister raised a glass of whiskey to his lips, his trembling limbs causing a bit of the drink to dribble down his chin.

Tom could do so much better, and he would.

Tapping his cigarette, he took in a deep breath, letting the tobacco fill him up as he tried to ignore his erection. _Dahlia the things you do to me_. Liliana wasn't the only one with the power to destroy a man with a few simple words. Turning to Yaxley, his voice was a low, lilting hum.

"Don't you think he looks a bit tired?"


End file.
